


BPS - Birthday Party Syndrome :(

by GrumpyJenn



Category: Selfie (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 12:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2693735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyJenn/pseuds/GrumpyJenn





	1. Plans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kanigye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanigye/gifts), [screamnuggets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamnuggets/gifts).



Charmonique looked disapprovingly at Henry. “What do you mean, you don’t know when Eliza’s birthday is? It’s next weekend, isn’t it plastered all over the Internet?”

“Well, I don’t spend all my time on the Internet, do I? I just wanted to know.” Henry knew he sounded defensive, but he noticed that the scowl Char was sporting was aimed not at him, but behind him. Probably at Freddy – Henry had seen chatting up one of the new interns about an hour ago – and it seemed that Char wasn’t happy about it.

Henry could understand that; Freddy was a tool. Charmonique clearly understood. He yanked his attention back to her.

“Why?” Char was asking, and it took Henry a second to catch up.

“Because she tried so hard to make my birthday special,” he said simply. “I want to return the favor.”

 

-/-/-

 

Eliza went to Henry’s door, he was her best friend… her only friend really, and even if he said _I told you Freddy was a tool_ he’d at least be sympathetic.

But when she went to knock, she saw Henry and his little girlfriend standing there hugging in his living room. So she went away, to the darkest corner of his patio, and curled up in his deck chair to think. _Where had it gone wrong?_

“Sorry, babes,” Freddy had said in his most reasonable tone. “But we agreed that it was just sex and a night out sometimes, right? Until one or the other of us found someone better.” He must have noticed the look on Eliza’s face, because he’d hastily reversed himself. “Someone different, I mean. Someone _else_. I have now, and I thought you were okay with it. We made a _deal_.”

And Eliza had found herself nodding even as she had _thought yeah, but you can’t even let me know you’re_ looking _for someone b—else?_ She had even heard herself murmuring agreement – yeah, of course, what was I thinking? – when all she could think of was that she had no-one to celebrate her birthday with her the following weekend.

Again.

So Eliza huddled in the dark on Henry’s patio chair, crying a little, and eventually she fell asleep.

 

-/-/-

 

It had been a strange night. There had been a nice dinner, and Julia’s poor stabs at inserting humor into conversation – she was much funnier when she didn’t try to _be_ funny, precisely _because_ she had no sense of humor – but then she had mentioned his birthday again.

Actually, he had mentioned it first, in passing, saying that he’d like her help in thinking up something for Eliza’s birthday the following weekend. But Julia had taken the ball and ran with it, going on and on about how it had been very kind of Eliza to try to do something she thought he would like, but hadn’t it gone terribly awry?

And she had said it all in such a patronizing tone, like she was patting a not-quite-bright child on the head, chuckling indulgently at his affection for a favorite toy.

He didn’t really like to think of himself as a child, or of Eliza as just a _thing_ … even when she objectified herself in the flirty way she had, it was on her terms, not those of a woman who was showing all the signs of… of…

“You’re jealous!” It came out like an accusation, and Julia stopped talking.

“I… was,” she admitted softly, “However, I have come to understand that while I like you very much, we are not suited to any long term relationship more intimate than friendship. I am sorry.”

Henry stared. “I see,” he said numbly, and then he _did_ see.

Julia liked him, and he liked her. There was comfortable companionship, and there was compatible sex.

But there wasn’t a… there wasn’t a _spark_ , a challenge.

Julia obviously understood Henry’s changing expressions as he realized that their relationship was friendly but not much more, because she smiled a bit wistfully at him. “I would like to remain your friend, however,” she said, and reached up to hug him.

They stood like that, embracing, for a while, and then Julia removed her arms from around Henry’s neck and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. “I will miss you as a lover,” she said, “But I think it is for the best that we no longer indulge in that part of our relationship.”

Henry nodded, helped her on with her coat, and escorted her to the door, watching after her as she got into her car, and turned to go in. Spotting something out of the corner of his eye, something out of place, he turned to look at it directly.

Bright red hair tumbled over the edge of one of his patio chairs.

Henry went to investigate.


	2. Change

Henry only knew one person with that hair – the color of flame – and if Eliza was all right she wouldn’t be here. She’d be at home snuggled up with Freddy, or she’d have breezed in, Julia or not.

If she was all right.

 _She wouldn’t be here on my patio, tearstained and fast asleep,_ Henry thought as he got close enough to see her face. He crouched down. “Eliza?”

There was no response, and the mild worry sharpened. Henry put a hand up to brush coppery hair off her forehead. “Eliza. Wake up.”

She stirred, and opened her eyes. Blinking a few times, she looked confusedly up at Henry. And then the hazel eyes filled with tears and Eliza sat up.

“Hey,” Henry said, even more worried now. Eliza didn’t really do quiet tears...  any more than she did crying herself to sleep in his deck chair “Don’t do that. Come on.” He stood and held out a hand to her.

She took it, but she didn’t meet his eyes. And she followed him – meekly, and that was worrisome too – into the house. “Can I get you a beverage?” He tried to jolly her out of whatever this… mood, for lack of a better term… was.  “Eliza?”

Eliza threw him a bright smile, patently false, and _seemed_ to snap out of it. But she still wouldn’t look him in the eye. “That’d be great,” she said, her voice as bright as the smile, and as fake, but Henry had no idea what to do but make her the drink. He knew what she liked, and going through the motions gave him time to think.

She was sitting on the sofa and twisting her hands in her lap when he crossed over to her and handed her the drink. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“Oh,” she said breezily, “Nothing. I knew it was just sex and sometimes a night out, right?” She still wouldn’t make eye contact, Henry noted, and he swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat.   _God, she looks so defenseless,_ he thought, _and the tool broke up with her right before her birth…_ oh _. Oh, Eliza_.

“But you hoped it would last at least through your birthday this weekend?” Henry said it as gently as he could, but Eliza’s gaze jumped, startled, to meet his.

“How did you know?” It was an anguished whisper, and the hazel eyes filled with tears again. Henry took the glass from her hand and set it on the table.

He chose his words very carefully. She was already so hurt, and he did _not_ want to make it worse. “I know how important birthdays are to you. After…” He paused to take a deep breath and she interrupted.

“After I threw you a party you didn’t want, you mean,” she said, and her tone was… not bitter, not angry, just sadly accepting. Henry took her hands. They were so cold.

“After you threw me a party I didn’t know I wanted,” he corrected. “You said all your birthdays had sucked.” He knew she could almost hear the air quotes he mentally put around the last word, because there was a ghost of a smile. “So I know how important they are to you.” The smile disappeared and she clutched at his hands. He gently extricated them and picked up her drink, handed it to her.

“What am I going to do?” She sounded so depressed, and it broke Henry’s heart.

“I’ll throw you a party,” he offered. “I was going to anyway, or at least pitch in with what your other friends wanted to do with you.”

She snorted. “Other friends, right. Like who, exactly?”

“Charmonique.  Larry.” Henry would have gone on, but the face she made when he said Larry’s name made him laugh softly. “Okay, not Larry, then.”

“No. Not Larry. Please.” Eliza fidgeted with her glass for a moment, then put it down on the table. “Henry?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” she whispered, and kissed him.

It started out as just a peck, a kiss full of gratitude that any friend might give another, but then it changed into something far more intimate.

 _Sweet_ , Henry thought blankly as she kissed him, _who’d’ve thought she’d be sweet?_ Eliza was so open about sex and so sexually aggressive in her day-to-day behavior that _sweet_ had never crossed Henry’s mind.

But oh, god, she _was_.

And because she was, Henry pulled away.

Anticipating her hurt, he laid his forehead gently against hers. “I… Julia just broke up with me. Less than an hour ago.”

“You need time.”

“I think we both do.”

 

 


End file.
